After the fall of New York and humanity, the Master had reached the pinnacle of his success. But this was unfortunate for him, as he had no new goals to strive for and thus boredom consumed him. He spent the days and nights of nuclear winter staring out of the window wishing for something to occupy his mind, even if it were the simplist of things.

He reached out to Thomas Eichhorst to help him on this endeavour, who was all too happy to embrace new tasks. It was not difficult to find some illicit substances in the wastelands of the ruined city for him to tempt his lord, (if the Master was really that bored, surely he would be well up for some class A's?). Therefore Eichhorst would achieve his ultimate goal and get him into bed.

The Master was unsure at first but after a few gulps of the rohipnol laced blood cocktail he found himself relaxed and care free, desperate to have his right hand man near him for chats and giggles.

“You can relax my great one, I will attend to everything,” Eichhorst said slickly handing him another tall glass of crimson coloured liquid garnished with pineapple. He gently pushed him down onto his leather sofa and stood above him.

“As you wish Thomas,” the Master slurred, his eyes rolling around like amber marbles in his head. He was happy to be free of any responsibility so he could relish the high.

Many drinks later, the atmosphere in the Master's penthouse was chilled and relaxed. The rohipnol, crack and ecstacy had worked wonders on him and loosened him up enough to give Eichhorst the night off and share some of his cocktails with him.

As a result, Eichhorst's sobriety had also been dented so he hijacked YouTube and selected a bombardment of Avicii, Sash and old Bonkers albums, with a few subtle Scatman songs thrown in. The strigoi had devolved enough to embrace the cheesy music.

The Master took a large hit on his crudely constructed crackpipe then passed it to Eichhorst who sucked it zestfully, feeling euphoric that he was enjoying his time with him instead of giving him orders. He had been desperately besotted with the Master for decades and craved to be closer to him but other people always seemed to get in the way. What could he do to make him realise that nobody would go as far as he would to serve him? He would drill it home to him that he was the only one for him... whatever it took. Maybe it was the substances, but for some reason Eichhorst found his mind wandering to darker places than normal.

Through the haze of booze and drugs, the Master sensed that Eichhorst was thinking about him – his gift of telepathy was a blessing and a curse. It wasn't the first time but now his desires seemed far more intense. Before, he hadn't been interested in the slightest but now something in his subconscious was making him wonder, would it really be so bad to give Eichhorst what he had been craving for?

"You have been dreaming about me for a long time haven't you?" he asked, moving closer to him and rubbing his long fingers down his cheek.

"All I have ever wanted to do is serve you. You are my world, I will do whatever you ask," Eichhorst answered eagerly. The Master's touch alone sent shivers down his spine.

His jaw almost dropped when the Master finally succumbed and slowly and seductively stripped off, lay flat on his back then motioned for him to come over.

"Get naked and squat over me," he said sternly but with a smile on his face.

Eichhorst could hardly believe his luck and did as he was told, hurriedly ripping off his suit, "I am ready to receive your infinite power."

The Master clawed at his legs and teasingly tickled his ass with his snake-like stinger pertruding from his mouth.

"First, I want to receive some of yours," he whispered. "Take a steaming shit on me."

"As you wish," Eichhorst said.

The crack was making his stomach contents bubble anyway so he was more than happy to explosively void his bowels all over the Master's chest. Before he could even shake the cling ons from his ass cheeks, he shrieked at a sharp jolt from the Master's stinger as he thrust it full force up inside him.

The stinger burrowed deeper, the Master curious as to how far it could go before Eichhorst submitted but he managed to take it all – and loved every second of it. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he rocked back and forth, moaning in time with the thrusts. The Master did not stop until he had sucked all of Eichhorst's ass clean, gulping down any excess along the way. Their fun continued once he retreived his stinger, for he gripped his obedient servant by the neck, pinned him on his back and mounted him, expecting the favour to be returned.

He straddled him and let out a stream of fecel matter onto his face and into his gaping mouth. Eichhorst was in ecstacy. He put his palms to his cheeks and massaged it into his skin. Neither cared about the mess they were making as they smeared excrement over the floor and on each other. In fact for the strigoi it was a turn on. Eichhorst could hardly contain himself as he gripped the Master's thighs with his shit stained palms and slid his stinger into his ass to explore every inch of his rectal cavity. To him, it was a divine delicacy.

Eichhorst squeezed his legs in appreciation, unable to answer back with his mouth full. The passion lasted for many hours with Eichhorst reluctantant to break away, he wanted this moment to last for eternity. The Master eventually yanked his stinger out of his back passage and threw it at him.

It had been a long time since he had had a hit and the restless craving was creeping up on him. If it weren't for that he would have gladly carried on. But the best place for an impending comedown was resting in his box, not having his asshole tongued for hours on end by his servant. He curled up and was about to close the lid when his naked lover crawled in beside him with a huge grin spread ear to ear and eyes gooey with complete adoration.

"That was wunderbar," Eichhorst said dreamily laying beside him, and wrapping his arms around him in a warm embrace.

The Master pulled away and jabbed him with his elbow for him to get out. The last thing he wanted was to listen to him pouring his heart out about how much he loved him. He already knew.

"Put some clothes on and fetch me a drink you Nazi. And don't let me see you in my bed again," he ordered abruptly, making sure he knew his place.

For a moment, Eichhorst's face fell as if his entire world had collapsed but he quickly pulled himself together and did as he was told, only letting out his screams of rage and frustration when he was far out of earshot. He would have to try hard to get back into the Master's good books but now that his eyes were open to sexual pleasure, he knew just the thing...

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